


There's really nothing better (than a beautiful boy in an ugly Christmas sweater)

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Clothing Store, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Sweaters, Fluff, Louis has a part time job in a clothing store, M/M, Miscommunication, No Smut, Schmoop, Strangers to Lovers, Student Harry, Student Louis, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Louis takes on a few more shifts at his part time job to be able to buy Christmas presents for his family and friends. In comes Harry, who might be everything Louis had never asked for. Featuring ugly Christmas Sweaters, too many Christmas songs, and not enough snow.





	There's really nothing better (than a beautiful boy in an ugly Christmas sweater)

**Author's Note:**

> Now that the authors have been revealed I can finally add in these notes!
> 
> First of all, this was my very first fic fest and I am so grateful to [Lauren](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/) for modding the fest and giving me something to do now that I've finished TNFIF.
> 
> Secondly, as ever, my wonderful beta, [Emmi](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/), deserves all the praise. She not only helped me with the fic, she also made a gorgeous moodboard for it which you can check out [here](http://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/181165655023/theres-really-nothing).
> 
> I also want to thank my lovely friend [pocketsunshineharry](http://pocketsunshineharry.tumblr.com/) for reading through it as well.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Christmas. He _loves_ Christmas. It’s just that he’s a broke college student with six siblings and a shitty part-time job. One that’s becoming progressively shittier because there's Christmas music playing in the store from as early as November on, and he can only hear Bublé so many times a day before he wants to scream. It's happened too often that once he’s home from his shift he catches himself humming Christmas songs in the shower.

When he was a child he used to think that all the Christmas lights were for him. He’d love nothing more than to drag his mum down the main street and watch all the displays, with the shiny new toys that they could never afford. Inevitably, on his birthday, one or two would be waiting for him anyway. 

Once he grew up a little more, he realized that everyone was in fact _not_ celebrating his birthday, but Christmas instead, and while at first he got a little jealous at the fact that his younger sisters got presents too, he soon got over that. From his first part time job on, he’d put money aside to help his mum buy his ever increasing amount of siblings an ever increasing amount of presents.

It’s not that his mum can’t afford it nowadays, even though she’s just had newborn twins, but Louis likes getting to buy his sisters and brother something special. He still loves looking at the displays, but these days he thinks about what little baby Ernie would like to have, or whether Fizzy and Lottie are too old for dolls. 

His part-time job isn’t even that shitty, really. It’s certainly been nice during the summer, when he picked up as many hours as he could to afford moving into his off campus place with his mate Zayn, whom he met in his freshman year at college. It’s just that once the holidays are near - and near is a loose term, as he’s heard the first holiday tunes in September when it was still hot enough to go out without a jacket - things get a little.. Intense.

By intense, he means that they’ve got an entire side of the store dedicated to Christmas. It’s got decorations, and fake mini trees, cards and wrapping paper.

And Christmas jumpers.

So many Christmas jumpers.

So many _ugly_ Christmas jumpers that Louis can’t look at for too long without a headache forming behind his eyes. 

Of course, the jumpers are their biggest hit. There’s people coming in just to mock them, Louis is sure, but then there’s others who buy them and he can’t quite figure out whether or not they genuinely like them or if they’re aware of quite how garish they are.

He’s on his first shift of the week, Sunday evening, which is a notoriously slow night, but Louis still gets paid the same amount of money so he’s happy to take it. He’s working every day this week, his classes pretty much finished until after New Years, but still enough days to go until Christmas that it’s not too busy and that he can earn some money that he’ll spend almost as soon as it’s been put in his account. He’s only had to help two customers, and is absently humming along to _All I want for Christmas is you_ when the little bell above the door signals another customer.

And, _hello_. 

In walks an absolutely stunning man, and Louis stands up a little straighter, eyes practically stuck on him as the man stands in the entrance, looking around. 

(What? He’s just trying to figure out if he can help. That’s his job, innit?)

He’s just about to make his way from behind the counter when the man - boy? - seems to find what he’s looking for and - oh no.

He makes his way straight to the Christmas department. To the ugly Christmas jumpers. Louis slumps a bit, leans against the counter. What a shame.

Eye candy is eye candy though, so he sneaks a peek here and there, catches him chuckling to himself at some point. Just his luck that this absolute dreamboat has the worst taste in clothes. He would entirely be the person to unironically wear a hideous Christmas jumper, Louis thinks to himself. And the worst thing is, he’d probably look good in it too, with his chocolate curls and that damn dimple in his cheek that Louis can spot from a mile away.

He doesn’t think the man has spotted him yet, because he seems entranced by the amount of jumpers on display, piling a bunch of them on his arm. Louis really should go over there and be a good salesperson.

Offering to help him get dressed is probably not in his job description though.

“Are you finding what you’re looking for?” He asks, heading over towards him. The boy - from up close he’s more of a boy than Louis had originally assumed, his age or a little younger even - looks up, eyes going from frightened Bambi to something more -- fuck, are those crinkles, by his eyes? Louis glances down at the mountain of jumpers in his arms, gestures towards them. “With the, um, jumpers, I mean. Do you need any help?” He realizes a beat too late that it does sound like he’s asking him if he needs help getting dressed, so he quickly continues. “I mean. If there’s anything specific you’re looking for, we’ve got a couple more items that aren’t in store right now, but they’re available online, and we can have it delivered to your house, or you could come pick it up here, try it on, return it free of charge.” 

“Oh.” The boy purses his lips, glances down at the clothes over his arm, then at Louis. “No, I - I’m good?” He says it like he’s not entirely sure, and all Louis can think of is that his voice is so much deeper than he’d expected. “Thank you though?”

Louis isn’t sure if he meant to dismiss him, but he nods, takes a step backwards. “Alright. Well, um, I’ll be behind the counter, if you end up needing me after all..” 

“Harry.” The boy says, apparently taking the way Louis trailed off as a sign he should introduce himself. 

Only, Louis doesn’t realize that that’s what he’s doing until he’s already opened his mouth. “No,” he says, confused. “I’m Louis.”

There’s a warm chuckle that Louis wants to _bathe_ in. “No,” the boy says. “ _I’m_ Harry.”

“Oh.” Louis feels like an idiot, but with the way Harry’s smiling at him, he can’t really find it in him to feel bad about it. “Right. Obviously. Of course.” He nods, just for good measure. “Well, Harry, I’ll be behind the counter, like I said. In case you need me.” He grimaces. “Like I also said. Sorry, it’s Sunday night. It’s usually pretty slow. Apparently slow enough that my brain’s kind of stopped working too.”

Harry lets out another laugh, this one more like a honk, and Louis needs to get away before he gets so enamored by this boy, who slaps a hand against his mouth as though he can force the sound back in. Harry might be pretty and all, and have a laugh that Louis wouldn’t be opposed to hearing again, but he’s also got a _horrible_ taste in clothes, and Louis doesn’t know if that means anything.

So he makes his escape, goes back to the counter, and doesn’t look up until he knows Harry’s disappeared into the changing room.

Considering the amount of jumpers he went into the changing room with, Louis is a bit surprised when Harry comes up to the register with only one of them. As far as Christmas jumpers go, this one isn’t even _that_ awful. It’s got _[Oh Deer](http://i66.tinypic.com/xat9v9.jpg) _written on it, with antlers coming out of the O. Louis isn’t sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. Instead he plasters on his fake customer service smile and hears himself speak in that patient patented professional voice. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Harry frowns for a moment. “Um,” he says hesitantly, “yes?”

What is with this boy and making everything sound like a question?

Louis nods amiably, takes the tags off the jumper and bags it, telling Harry his total (34.95 for a jumper you can never wear outside of the holiday period), transaction going smoothly - he deserves a raise, really. 

That is, until Harry starts patting his coat pockets, looking up at Louis. “Oh dear.”

Louis holds back a groan. “Is there a problem, sir?”

Harry pouts, and Louis isn’t sure if it’s because he’s forgotten his wallet or because he’s called him sir instead of Harry. “No,” he says slowly, gesturing towards the jumper. “It’s - oh dear? Like. _Oh deer_.” He explains, looking sheepish. “Like the jumper? I was making a jo- forget it.” He produces his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, swiping his card as he tucks a curl behind his ear. Louis suddenly feels a little bad for him.

“Sorry,” he says, dropping the professional voice and sounding more like himself, accent a little stronger, voice a little warmer. “Just, Sundays. I’m not quite-” he waves his hand in a way that’s supposed to convey he’s not entirely wholly present (hah, present) right now. “Anyway. That was an _awful_ joke.” He makes sure to make it sound teasing. If his boss were here right now he’s sure he’d get a disapproving stare, because he’s not supposed to insult the customers. But Harry just smiles at him, in this sweet and dimply way, and Louis has never been too good at holding his tongue. “But what else can I expect from someone who buys awful Christmas jumpers.”

Harry looks down at the bag he’s holding. “It’s not _that_ bad,” he mutters, and Louis wonders if he’s insulted him. He’s doing a stellar job of making sure Harry never comes back. He might as well have insulted his face. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, he’s got a lovely face, really. 

(It’s a good thing no one can hear his inner monologue, because he’s sure people would ask if he’s drunk. He’s not, of course, just tired and ready to go home. And also perhaps a bit silly for beautiful boys.)

“It’s not,” Louis assures him. It really isn’t. There’s far worse Christmas jumpers, just a few steps away from them. “At least it’s a pun. Puns are fun.”

Harry’s dimple shows. “You rhymed.” He looks delighted. Louis tries not to scoff, smiles instead. “Right,” Harry realizes, “I shouldn’t be keeping you from your work.”

Louis looks around, arching an eyebrow. The store’s empty. 

Harry giggles at that. “I mean, I should be heading home. Um, thank you.” He holds up the bag. “See you around, maybe?”

Louis would like that. He smiles, nods. “Yeah, maybe. See you, Curly.”

*

It’s nearing the end of his work day on Monday that he comes back in. Louis quirks an eyebrow, but as he’s busy ringing up a rather impatient looking woman, he can’t call out to him or even nod at him. There’s a few more people in the store today, but Harry doesn’t seem to really need any help, going straight back to the Christmas jumper section. Louis wonders what happened to the _Oh Deer_ one. Wonders if perhaps he’s wearing it underneath his coat. 

He finishes ringing up his customer, tells her the total and waits for her to swipe her card before handing her the receipt and wishing her a pleasant day. She doesn’t respond, just grabs the bag and makes her way out of the store, and Louis gets about a second to glance at Harry before a young looking girl - probably around Daisy and Phoebe’s age - comes up to the register with her purchase. She seems a bit shy, and Louis understands why when he realizes that the gift she’d intended to buy is just slightly more than the money she has on her. She looks at him nervously, putting her coins on the counter and asking if it’s enough. 

He can see in her eyes how hopeful she is. 

And she’s only short by a pound and a half. 

He sweeps the coins into the register, rings up her purchase with the employee discount, making a mental note to cover the difference later. The look on her face, when she realizes that she’s got enough money to buy her gift, is well worth the small difference that’ll have to come out of his pocket.

He doesn’t realize that Harry’s seen what happened until he looks up and finds him next in line, smiling at him. “That was sweet of you,” Harry says softly, and Louis shrugs a shoulder.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he says, glancing at the two jumpers in Harry’s hand. “More Christmas jumpers?”

Harry nods, bites at his lip. “I don’t know which one to pick though. Which is your favorite?” He holds up the two jumpers, one with the body of an elf and _#elfie_ , obviously designed so that the wearer seems to be in elf costume. The other has a dog on it, wearing a Christmas hat, with two cactuses in the background, done up with Christmas lights. _Feliz Navidog_ , it says. They’re both awful. 

Louis arches an eyebrow, looking at the jumpers and then at Harry’s hopeful face. He swallows back the comment that they’re both hideous, can’t when Harry looks so lovely and trusting. “Um,” there’s not that much positive to say about it, unfortunately. “I’ve honestly no clue, mate. Why don’t you take them both if you can’t pick?”

Harry looks a little disappointed, but only for a brief moment, before he eyes the jumpers again, critically. “Hm,” he says, and Louis wonders if perhaps he can’t _afford_ to buy both of them. Why on earth Harry would spend money on Christmas jumpers (ugly ones at that) if he’s borderline broke isn’t something he can fathom, but then, people have done weirder things. And, the thought suddenly occurs, maybe the jumper isn’t _for_ Harry. Maybe it’s a gift. 

Louis should not be so happy at the thought. He knows better than to think that fashion sense is _that_ important, it’s just, all the boys with horrible fashion sense that Louis has met thus far have turned out to be straight. Louis has gotten burned once or twice before, crushing on guys that eventually turned out to be straight, so he likes to err on the side of caution. Until he knows anything more about Harry - which he doubts he will, as he’s unlikely to see him again unless he randomly runs into him after work - he’s going to have to work off what little he knows. That Harry’s a tall, gorgeous drink of water who unfortunately has a hideous dress sense and might quite likely be straight. And that Louis should probably, definitely, not flirt with him. 

While Harry’s been contemplating which jumper to buy, a small queue has formed behind him, and he only belatedly realizes, steps out of line with flushed cheeks and profuse apologies. Louis should really not be so endeared.

He also shouldn’t be annoyed by the other customers, so he takes a moment, goes back to that polite, professional smile that he’s somehow completely forgotten to wear around Harry. He works through the queue easily, glad that it’s not close enough to Christmas that people are in that frenzied holiday spirit where even a minute’s wait is too long. It’s all pleasant _have a good night_ ’s and _thank you for shopping here, please come again_ ’s that fall off his lips with practised ease.

Once he’s finally finished ringing up his last customer, Harry appears back at the counter, putting the _[Feliz Navidog](http://i63.tinypic.com/2m4d0k9.jpg)_ jumper in front of him. Louis glances up at him. “Are you sure?” He almost teases, and for a moment, Harry’s resolve wavers. 

But then he nods, takes out his wallet, and Louis can’t help but smirk a bit. “Good choice,” he comments, and he doesn’t entirely mean it, but Harry beams at him, and well, maybe he sort of means it. Even though Harry probably would’ve looked adorable in that #elfie jumper, with his curls framing his face above the pretend costume. He finishes the transaction and smiles up at Harry. “Have a good night. Please come again.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “You say that to all the boys,” he teases, and Louis might just stare at him a little as he walks out the door. 

*

Tuesday’s shift is too long before it’s even started, as Louis came in with a pounding headache. He knows he should’ve canceled, maybe, but there’s not that many people available this week, and he kind of really needs the money now that he’s got six siblings to buy presents for this Christmas. He knows that Ernie and Doris are too young to really care about presents, but it’s the principle of the matter, and all. Besides, Lottie and Fizzy are getting to an age where he can’t just buy them something cheap anymore - not that they wouldn’t love it, but it’s that age where brands matter, in school, and Louis doesn’t want anything to single them out. It’s already been hard enough for them in the past, when they were raised by a single mum, who had five kids, which is hardly _her_ fault, but kids can be awful.

The _point_ is, Louis is already done with this day, and he’s got a six hour shift with Bublé crooning in his ear about how it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. It’s not that he’s wrong, Louis is sure that the first snow is in the air, he could smell it on his way to work earlier. There’s lights twinkling just outside the window, and if his head didn’t hurt so much he could almost feel himself getting excited for the upcoming holidays. For more than just the break it allowed him from school.

It’s quiet in the store, so Louis slips from behind the register and goes to tidy up the clothes, the piles where customers have been looking through them, tugging out their size and leaving the rest to fall over. People can be so messy, he muses, though he doesn’t really mind folding clothes, finds that it’s soothing enough that his head almost stops pounding.

He might be humming along to Santa Baby when he hears a soft chuckle behind him. He straightens up immediately, turns around - “Harry!”

Harry, who is here again. Third day in a row. Louis narrows his eyes. “Are you stalking me?” 

The face Harry pulls shouldn’t make Louis laugh, if only because his temples throb viciously when he does. “Sorry,” he tells him, though he doesn’t tell him whether it’s for accusing him of stalking (though, seriously, three days in a row?) or for laughing at him. “Is something wrong with the jumper you bought? Did you change your mind and come to exchange it for the other one?”

He’s not sure why Harry looks a little pleased at the fact that Louis remembered. He just shakes his head, biting down at his bottom lip. “No, I actually, I wore it today and a friend of mine, he asked if I was going to wear a cat jumper next, and I wasn’t going to, but then I passed by the store and I figured - do you have any?”

Harry wants a cat jumper. Louis bites down on his lip to keep from smiling. “Didn’t want all the cats in your life to think that you preferred dogs?” He’s not sure if there’s not some innuendo in there, but if there is, Harry doesn’t pick up on it. Or doesn’t let on that he has.

“I think my mum’s cat would be quite upset,” he tells him, and his face is so serious that Louis needs a moment to realize that it’s a joke. It’s the damn dimple that clues him in. 

“Right.” He glances at the jumpers, at the clothes he’d so meticulously folded and the ones that are still a mess. It can probably wait for a bit. “I’d be happy to help you look.”

Louis shouldn’t be so pleased that Harry says yes. But it’s calm in the store, and something about Harry’s presence makes Louis feel at ease. Enough that his headache stops bothering him, but that might also be because Harry is subconsciously humming along to Santa Baby, crooning out the _baby_ in a voice that might make Louis a little weak in the knees.

He’s equal parts relieved and disappointed when he finds a jumper that might fit the brief. For a moment he contemplates swiping it and hiding it under a pile of other clothes, but then he thinks of how disappointed Harry would be and - “How’s this?”

He holds up the jumper - a Christmas tree made up entirely of black cats, with the phrase _[Meowy Christmas](http://i63.tinypic.com/23t5yys.jpg) _\- and is rewarded by bright eyes and a happy chuckle. “That’s _perfect_ ,” Harry exclaims, and Louis really wishes that he had better taste in clothes. He also wishes that he had the courage to ask him if there’s another reason he keeps coming into the store, or if he’s really only interested in the jumpers. But for as loud as he can be, he doesn’t quite have the courage to tell this beautiful boy that he wouldn’t mind seeing him outside of work sometime. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly, and if he’s already thinking of what other animals he could persuade Harry to wear, he’s not letting it on. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern, but he won’t hold his breath or get his hopes up.

*

The thing is, Louis is a bit shit at not getting his hopes up, apparently. Because by the time he’s ready to close the next day, he’s in somewhat of a mood, and it’s got everything to do with the fact that he hasn’t seen a certain curly haired boy come into his shop today.

Not that he blames him. Harry’s bought three Christmas jumpers. That’s three more than Louis owns. How many Christmas jumpers does one really need, when there’s only two Christmas days? Three, technically, if you count Christmas Eve, but since that’s his birthday, Louis doesn’t really. Point is, even if Harry does count Christmas Eve, he’s already got a jumper for every day of the holiday. Louis should’ve known better than to expect him to come in four days in a row.

He probably only imagined the way Harry smiled at him, thought that it meant something when Harry probably smiled at everyone that way. 

He’s just closed the register and is on his way to flip the sign on the door when it flies open, and a rather red faced and out of breath Harry makes an appearance. Louis tells himself that the way his heart jumps is just because he’s startled. 

“Hi,” he says slowly, and Harry grins at him, bright and beautiful and with his hair in complete disarray. Louis does not need to know what caused that.

“You’re still here,” Harry sounds so happy, like the thought of not seeing Louis at the store is worse than, say, the store not being open. The hopeful part of Louis that had been silenced by the conviction that Harry’s only here for the jumpers starts whispering softly in the back of his mind. 

“I am,” Louis confirms. “I was just about to close up though.” He’d been looking so forward to going home, too. 

Harry bites down on his lip. “I’ll be quick?” He rushes through the words, as if to prove that he really will be quick. His smile fades a bit. “I mean, if that’s okay? I wanted to come earlier, but I got held up. My friends were, we were meeting at the pub after class, and I lost track of time a bit.”

Maybe the red face isn’t just because of the cold or because he’d hurried, then. Maybe Harry’s also a bit tipsy. Not enough to be anything other than completely charming, apparently, because while Louis sighs - more for show than anything else - he also nods and gestures for the boy to come in. He _does_ close the door behind him though, flips the sign so no other customers will come in while Harry’s browsing.

With nothing else to do, Louis follows him to the jumper section, watches him go through the racks with an amused smile on his face. “What is it with you and these jumpers?” He asks him, one hip leaned against the side of a dressing room stall. “Should I stage an intervention? Am I aiding in your addiction, Harold?”

Harry stays quiet for a moment, and Louis is about to repeat his question or perhaps acknowledge that it’s none of his business - he’s not sure why he keeps forgetting that he doesn’t know Harry and that Harry’s just a customer - when he turns towards him, a random jumper in his hand. “I lost a bet,” Harry tells him. “My mate Niall, he bet me that this girl from school was interested in me, and I was sure that she wasn’t.”

Louis wishes he’d know whether the disappointment in Harry’s voice is because he lost the bet or because she was interested. He wants to ask him if he’s interested back. “So because you lost, he’s making you wear Christmas jumpers?” It’s mild, as punishments go. And sort of funny.

“Every day for a week.” Harry explains. “‘s why I came in on Sunday. I completely forgot that it was supposed to be this week, because he’d said leading up to Christmas, but school’s out next week, so obviously I had to do it this week.” He puts the jumper back down, starts going through another rack. 

Louis frowns. He’s not sure why Harry didn’t just buy a whole bunch of jumpers on Sunday, rather than come in every day for a new one. Not that he’s complaining. He wonders if that means Harry will come back tomorrow too. He probably will do, if he’s only buying one jumper again today. He only needs a final one for school on Friday after he leaves tonight. He really shouldn’t be disappointed. 

(He is. But only a little.)

“So what kind of jumper are we looking for today?” He asks him, holding up a particularly awful one, one that has Santa on a stripper pole. “I bet you’d look great in this.” He waggles his eyebrows. Maybe Harry buying awful Christmas jumpers isn’t a sign of his sexuality, as Louis had assumed. Not when he’s doing it on a dare. Maybe he knows they’re awful, and that’s the whole point of it. But then, the bet had been about a girl. Maybe Harry’s happily wearing the jumpers because he’s now dating the girl he thought he didn’t have a chance with.

Harry tilts his head a little, considers the jumper. 

“Or this one, if you want to let your mate know what you thought of the bet.” Louis holds up another one, with gingerbread men and _bite me_ on the front. He doesn’t ask about the girl. Instead he takes Harry’s silence as a sign that he isn’t convinced, and he puts the jumper back down. “Or,” he continues, “since you were going down the animal route earlier, and like puns-” he holds up a third jumper. It’s bright red, with a llama wearing a jumper and the text _[fa la la la llama](http://i64.tinypic.com/axcgua.jpg)_. 

It earns him a smile. “I do like puns.” Harry takes a step towards him, and Louis holds out the jumper towards him. “Is it awful enough though? Niall said they had to be awful.”

Bless him. At least Harry’s trying to buy awful jumpers. “I mean,” Louis shrugs. “The Santa one is probably worse, but. There’s tacky and awful and then there’s classy and awful. You would be the type to try and buy classy awful jumpers.”

Harry giggles at that. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” he says thoughtfully, and Louis frowns.

“I’m not sure either.”

He finally takes the jumper from his hand, holds it in front of his chest, looking at Louis as though he’s solely relying on his judgment. If that’s true, he’s a bit fucked, really, because Louis thinks he looks gorgeous, even in that stupid jumper. He wonders if Niall is disappointed with the fact that Harry looks so charming and adorable in awful clothes. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe he thinks it’s right funny and Harry looks like a tit. Maybe Louis is just a little biased, and everyone in Harry’s class is laughing at him. If that’s true, Harry’s pretty awesome to not back out of the bet. But then, that might just be Louis’ bias talking again. 

“I like it,” he decides, and to his own surprise (and dismay) he isn’t even lying. 

*

Louis knows, on Thursday, just at what time Harry will be coming into the store. He’d actually let him know that, while he walked Louis home after his shift, having told him it was the least he could do when he’d left the store open just for him. Louis had found himself smiling against the inside of his scarf, wishing that he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, even when his body was begging him to get out of the cold. They’d ended up only spending ten minutes talking at the steps towards his apartment, before finally saying their goodbyes.

Today’s shift has started at one in the afternoon, and Louis has never seen time go by slower than it does today, when he knows Harry won’t be coming in until seven. After his yoga class, he’d told him, and Louis has given up on trying to figure out whether Harry could potentially be interested in men just from the little bits of information he shared. He knows he should just bite the bullet and ask him, especially because today’s the last day he’s going to be seeing him if he doesn’t speak up, but, he _likes_ Harry. From the few times he’s seen him and the short while they’d talked, he finds himself genuinely attracted and interested. And that terrifies him. Because Louis has done the whole crushing on a straight guy before. It’s why he prefers to meet people in gay bars, or on Tinder. At least then he knows that he won’t risk his heart getting broken, or worse, a punch to the face because he misunderstood friendly conversation for flirting. 

Not that he thinks Harry would punch him, if he made it clear that he wouldn’t mind seeing him again. And looking back, maybe kissing the apparently-straight-guy he’d crushed on while he was drunk was not the greatest way of letting him know he’d liked him, and maybe that punch to the face hadn’t been entirely undeserved, but still. Louis doesn’t want to make that mistake a second time. Maybe it’s better to just leave it as it is. Have Harry come into the store a final time, help him pick out a jumper (he might’ve already put aside a few that he thinks Harry might like) and resign himself to never seeing him again. 

He had told Zayn as much, last night, and it had earned him a massively unimpressed stare, but also a bit of a cuddle, so while that wasn’t entirely helpful it was still sort of nice.

It’s getting nearer to Christmas so the store is a lot busier than it’s been the past couple of days. Despite that, Louis still finds the day dragging on, clock ticking unbearably slow (he wonders if there’s a bear pun jumper he could find). At least he’s not working alone for the whole shift; Liam shows up at four o’clock, and while time doesn’t necessarily go any faster once he’s here, it’s at least nice to not be alone.

Especially when there’s a rush of customers just before six o’clock. Louis barely has time to breathe, he’s so swamped with people who need his help. Luckily Liam’s on the register, so he can at least wander around a bit (and if he hides in a dressing room for a minute just to get a moment to himself, no one has to know). His feet are starting to hurt, as they always do when he’s working full time, and his stomach is sort of grumbling, and there’s another headache forming behind his eyes.

None of that matters though, when he spots that already familiar mop of curls coming his way. Louis can’t help it, he smiles, politely excuses himself from another customer who wants his attention, making his way over to Harry instead. He only barely stops himself from going straight into his arms for a cuddle, because no matter how tired he is, he knows that he doesn’t know him well enough to take such liberties. Shame, though, Harry looks like he’d be an excellent hugger. 

“Hi Lou,” Harry grins at him, and Louis grins back automatically, feeling only marginally less tired. It must show on his face, because Harry’s crinkles fade a bit and he rests a hand on Louis’ arm, casual as anything. Louis tries very hard not to twitch at the sudden warmth, the exhaustion it brings with it. “You alright?”

Louis is pretty sure that he nods. “Yeah,” he says, “just tired. It’s been a long day. I’m about ready for this week to be over.”

Harry hums softly, and Louis looks up at him. He looks sweet, curls slightly droopy, and Louis remembers that he’s just come from yoga. He sneaks a peek but Harry sadly isn’t wearing his yoga pants. He’s not sure if he’s not disappointed. Louis has never really seen the appeal of yoga, but from how sweet and comfortable Harry looks right now he thinks he might have to reconsider. 

“You look it,” Harry says softly, and Louis snorts. He’s a bit too tired to take offense though. But his snort must communicate enough, because Harry laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just, you look tired. What time does your shift end?”

Not for another decade, Louis wants to tell him. It certainly feels that way. “Eight. So, only another hour. Liam’s closing tonight. It’s been busy though.” This statement, unfortunately, immediately gets proven right by a woman who taps his shoulder, a polite _excuse me?_ that shouldn’t make him want to snap, but it sort of does because he’d very much like to stay in his Harry bubble for a while longer. He knows he can’t though. It wouldn’t be very professional, to only pay attention to one of their customers. No matter how cute they might be.

“One moment, love,” he tells her, before turning back to Harry with an apologetic smile. “I put some jumpers for you in the back, but feel free to browse. If you want to see the ones I picked for you, just tell Liam you’re Curly.”

Harry laughs, that adorable honking laugh, and Louis turns to the young woman with a smile. He can’t help but like her, because despite the two young kids she has with her, she’s been waiting for him without a fuss. She’s polite, and apologetic, because one of the toddlers is having an absolute strop, but Louis knows kids, and before long he’s got the toddler on one arm. He insists on tugging at his hair, but the little boy squeals at him whenever he makes funny faces, so it isn’t all bad. And the young mum seems _so_ relieved that he isn’t chewing her out for her rowdy children, or being impatient with her. 

He might spend a bit more time on her than he usually would, but by the end of it, she’s left the store with an armful of presents and a calmer look on her face, and Louis can’t help but smile. He’s always had a soft spot for children, and for mums with children, because he remembers all too well how some stores had always seemed to be just a tad less welcoming to his mum than they’d been for others. It hadn’t been obvious, of course, but it’d happened often enough that salespeople gave them a wide berth, especially when they were excited for toys and got a bit rowdy. Louis sometimes feels bad for it, for the hard time he could give his mum. 

“You’re really good with kids,” he hears, and Louis is already smiling before he turns to meet Harry’s eyes. 

“I’ve got a big family,” Louis tells him, eyes flickering down to the jumper Harry’s holding. It’s not one he’s picked out, but the moment he sees it, he can’t help but snort. “Really?”

The jumper is simple, devoid of any animals. Louis can’t be disappointed though, because it has two Christmas baubles on it, one red, one green. Below it, in white, it merely states _[Balls](http://i68.tinypic.com/20k9aok.jpg)_. It’s cheeky, and Louis kind of loves it. “Great choice, love,” he tells him, and Harry dimples.

“You think? I was going to go for something more, well, awful, but. There’s just something very appealing about-”

Louis arches an eyebrow. “About balls?” He’s not getting his hopes up. He’s not.

Harry stares at him for a moment. “I was going to say puns.”

Oh. Louis nods. 

“Well, it’s a good choice.” He’d crack a joke, something about going out with a bang, but from the way Harry reacted to his subtle attempt at flirting (or at least Louis’ attempt at figuring out whether flirting with him was a thing he should do), he doesn’t think it’s going to get him anywhere. Harry doesn’t seem to be into men, or at least he’s not into Louis. Louis suddenly feels fatigue wash over him, stronger than before.

“Liam’s at the register,” he starts, momentarily distracted by another customer who tries to signal that he needs his help. “I, um, I better go and help out that man over there.” He bites down on his lip, looks up at Harry. “I hope your mate likes the shirt. If he doesn’t, I’m sure the girl that fancied you will.” He pauses for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye. He can’t just use his customer service voice and be professional, not after the brief but sincere connection they’d had. But he also can’t tell him that having him come into the store was the highlight of his week and would he be down to wear ugly jumpers for a while longer just so Louis can stare at him some more? So instead he just gives him another smile. “Good luck with that.” He tells him. “It was nice meeting you.”

He barely has time to see if Harry’s smiling at him, the way he’s done so often, the way Louis will _miss_ , before he’s called upon by the waiting customer. By the time he’s helped him pick out the right size jumper for his daughter Harry is nowhere to be seen.

He shouldn’t be disappointed that this is how it ends. But he is. Having Harry come in to buy jumpers gave him something to look forward to, something that broke up the monotony of the days. But the bet’s over, Harry’s punishment is over, and there’s no reason for him to come back into the store anymore. 

If Louis had secretly hoped that Harry would be waiting for him after his shift, he refuses to even admit that to himself. Instead he hurries home, tendrils of cold air creeping through the button holes of his jacket and curling themselves around his skin.

*

Harry doesn’t come in on Friday.

Of course Harry doesn’t come in on Friday.

Louis hadn’t expected him to.

*

Saturday finds Louis rolling out of bed, cursing himself for taking up so many shifts this week. The money’s nice, sure, but he feels like he hadn’t had a moment to himself. All he’s done is go to work, come home, get some food, watch some telly and inevitably doze off with some familiar show playing in the background. He’s talked to Zayn some, but Zayn’s still busy finishing up an assignment for school, so they didn’t get much of a chance to just relax.

And his feet hurt. It’s cruel, Louis thinks, to require employees to be on their feet all day. He doesn’t know how other people do it. At least for him it’s just a temporary job, something that’ll earn him a bit of pocket money while he attends college. But there’s people for whom this is their actual life. 

It’s not much of a revelation, and it doesn’t necessarily help him in getting up, but at least he grumbles a tiny bit less on his way to the shower.

Zayn’s made him breakfast, which is surprising, because it’s Saturday and Zayn’s not an early riser. He _is_ a good cook though, and while Louis doesn’t see his flatmate he does thank him for the breakfast burrito he’s left him. By yelling it loudly from the kitchen. 

Food in his belly, a thermos in his hands, he makes his way to the store, occasionally taking a sip of strong, black tea, a definite early morning favorite. He’s expecting it to be busy, now that it’s the weekend and Christmas is ever nearer, so he’s grateful to find Liam already waiting for him when he arrives at the store. Out of the people he works with, Liam is easily his favorite, even if at first he didn’t get along with him too well. Louis has always been a bit more relaxed, a bit more mischievous, and it took them a while to get used to each other. But these days they’re close friends, and Louis is more than happy to share his tea with him, especially when it turns out that Liam brought cookies. 

Liam’s one of those people that took Louis a while to figure out. He was always mentioning girls, so Louis had assumed he was straight, but then he’d been over for his costume themed birthday party last year and had almost choked on his beer when Zayn walked in, so he’s not entirely sure now. Of course, Zayn is the type of guy that can make anyone question their sexuality, let alone when he was dressed up in tight spandex, exuding a sexiness that Batman could only hope to achieve. But still. 

Maybe Louis should actually introduce them this year. Liam might be a bit intimidated, but despite his sometimes aloof exterior, Zayn’s an absolute sweetie. If anything, he thinks they could be good friends. For as different as they seem, they’re pretty alike.

Louis entertains himself like that, for a good portion of his shift. Imagining ways to get Liam and Zayn together. He knows he’s getting way ahead of himself, that Liam might have been intimidated and impressed by Zayn’s good looks but that it doesn’t mean anything more than that. Or that even if it does, he might not want it to mean more than that. But there’s only so much to do at work and half of that doesn’t require much of his brain.

Plus. Louis might be kind of lonely.

He has a lot of friends, and a wonderful family, but there’s something about spending the holidays with someone you love. To being cuddled up on the sofa, watching sappy Christmas movies, holding hands under the blanket. 

If he can’t have that for himself, he wants his loved ones to have it. His mum’s happy (albeit quite busy with the tiny twins), his siblings are too young to date, and Perrie - his other favorite colleague - has just started seeing a girl from her class. It would be a pretty nice Christmas gift if he could make one of his favorite people in the world happy, by setting him up with another one of his favorite people.

The day’s pretty uneventful, busy enough that Louis doesn’t have much time to fuss about the ache in his feet, but nothing really out of the norm happens. They make it through lunchtime, and it’s only two hours until Louis’ shift ends and he can make his way home for some good food and maybe a pint or two at the pub later, when the doorbell rings to signal another customer.

He’s somewhere in the back though, on the phone with a customer, so he doesn’t notice until Liam calls out to him. “Lou?” 

Louis stops searching for the size M girl’s jumper that he could’ve sworn was still in stock, pushes his damp hair from his face. It’s always so _hot_ in the back, Christ. “Yeah?”

“There’s someone here that needs your help.”

He rolls his eyes. He’s only got one pair of hands, he can’t do everything at once. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t want to be unprofessional in front of customers, and besides, Liam’s busy too. It’s not like he’s slacking off and letting Louis do all the work.

“I’ll be right out!” He calls back, going through another stack of jumpers before giving up the search, knowing that the jumper is still available online, and that he can order it in if the customer really wants it. He tells the girl on the phone that, lets her know that she can order it online herself too if she wants, and that she can choose to have it delivered to the store. He thanks her for her patience, hopes that whoever’s in need of his help is going to be as patient and compliant as she was.

The first thing he notices, when he walks out, is the customer’s curls. He’s got his back towards him and Louis’ heart does this odd twist, because he tells himself not to get his hopes up. There’s no reason that this would be Harry, he reminds himself. There’s plenty of other tall boys with curly hair. 

But then he turns around, and Louis finds himself smiling, bites on his bottom lip to reel it in a little bit, though the sheepish look on Harry’s face makes that a bit harder than he had anticipated.

“Harry,” he scrapes his throat, voice still coming out soft and sweet. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Harry takes a step towards him, fidgeting with the buttons on his coat. “I, um,”

He seems ill at ease and Louis isn’t sure why, wonders if perhaps Harry just feels silly, coming back into the store after he’s come in so often already. Maybe he thinks that Louis thinks he’s an idiot, for adhering to the bet, or that he was sincere when he asked him if he was stalking him. He feels a bit bad for him. “Are you alright?” He asks, follows it up with “did your friend tell you to wear more sweaters? Was he not happy with the ones you chose?”

Harry bites his lip, shakes his head. “No, I, um,” he starts again, but this time Louis waits, tries to be patient the way he’d like his customers to be with him. “I was wondering if I could get your opinion on something? You’ve been so helpful, with picking out the jumpers that I got.”

Oh. 

Louis nods. “Of course. Do you need help buying a gift, then?” He wouldn’t say he’d really been all that helpful, he’d mostly teased him and tried not to laugh at the jumpers Harry chose, but it’s still somewhat endearing that he valued Louis’ opinion so much. “Is it for someone special?” He regrets asking it as soon as the question leaves his mouth. 

Harry shakes his head again, then nods. Then shakes his head again. Louis arches an eyebrow. “No,” he eventually settles on. “I mean.” He takes a breath, undoes the buttons on his coat. “I was wondering, could I get your thoughts on this jumper?”

Harry’s wearing a Christmas jumper. Of course Harry’s wearing a Christmas jumper. Louis shouldn’t be surprised. The maroon colour suits him, and the text, it’s. Well, it’s another pun. So that fits Harry beautifully. _[Single all the way](http://i68.tinypic.com/23vhm5u.jpg),_ it says, and Louis smiles despite himself. “It’s nice,” he says, and if his voice comes out a little flat, then, that’s just because he’s having trouble not imagining Harry going up to that girl from class in this sweater. He bets she’d be ecstatic that he’s finally asking her out. 

“Nice?” Harry echoes softly. He seems confused.

Louis looks up at him. “Yeah,” he tries for a smile, doesn’t want Harry doubting himself. He’s too sweet, he deserves Louis’ support. It’s a lovely gesture, even though Louis thinks that he should probably find it cringy. It’s not though, especially when Harry looks so lovely and hopeful. He wants to tell him that there’s no way she’s not going to melt at the sight, wants to wish him good luck and congratulate him. Instead he just smiles, a bit more sincerely. “It looks good on you.”

Harry glances down at himself. Then looks back up at Louis. “You think? Do you think they’ll get it?”

“It’s not exactly subtle.” She’d have to be pretty daft _not_ to get it. Harry’s single. “If you go up to her, and ask her what she thinks of your jumper, just like you did with me, then I think she’d get the message that you’re interested.”

Harry lets out a thoughtful hum, glancing down at his jumper again. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I’m not sure.” He pauses. “I mean. _You_ didn’t.”

There’s a silence that seems to stretch on for longer than Louis is willing to admit. He blames the past week, the amount of hours he’s worked, for how long it takes his brain to catch up. To hear what Harry is saying, and add that to the sweet, sheepish way he’s smiling at him. “Wait,” he blurts out, “you, I mean, you’re saying -- what?”

“He’s saying he’s interested in you.” Liam pipes up helpfully, from somewhere behind Louis’ shoulder. Louis blindly flips him off out of habit, too busy staring at Harry, who is still smiling, but who has also started to blush a little bit. 

“You are?” It sounds awed. 

Harry dimples. “Is that okay?”

Louis blinks. “Are you- you’re asking me if it’s _okay_ that you’re interested in me?” He tries his hardest not to sound so surprised, but he _is_. “Really?”

Harry nods, bites his lip. (Louis tries hard not to think of how he could do that _for_ him). “I mean. I wasn’t sure if you were -- like, there were some times that I thought, maybe you were sort of flirting? But then I wasn’t sure.” He explains.

“I thought you were into that girl you mentioned,” Louis explains sheepishly. “At first I thought, well, most people who wear those hideous jumpers that you bought, in my experience, they’re usually straight. So when I learned it was for a bet I thought, maybe I’d misjudged you. But then you mentioned her and, I don’t know. I figured it was all just in my head.” The connection he’d thought they had had. He still couldn’t quite believe that it wasn’t. That Harry was really here, standing in front of him, declaring his intentions with a Christmas jumper. 

(He only barely resists pinching himself)

“I thought I might’ve made it all up too,” Harry admits, toe of his boot scuffing against the floor in a way that should not be so adorable. “But then I talked to Niall about it, and he told me that the only way I’d know for sure was if I just - put it out there. He came up with the idea of the jumper, actually. Said it’d be funny. And sort of, serendipitous, in a way. Because if it weren’t for his bet, actually, if it weren’t for that girl liking me, I never would’ve come in here. So, he said, Christmas jumpers were sort of our thing.”

Louis makes a face at that. “Great,” he grumbles playfully. “That’ll be a fun story to tell the kids.”

It’s a second too late that he realizes the implications of his words, but by then Harry has already caught on, eyebrow raising a bit. “Kids?” He looks hopeful though, pleased in a way that makes Louis’ stomach warm. “I’ve always wanted kids.”

Louis doesn’t blush. He _doesn’t_. “Even as young as you are?”

Harry nods. “You?”

“A hundred percent.” He could tell him all about his family, about the amount of siblings he grew up with, the diapers he had changed, but, unfortunately, he’s still on the clock. As lovely as Harry is, and he _is_ , even in a hideous but fortuitous Christmas jumper, Louis can’t just abandon all his responsibilities and let him whisk him out of the store. “Which, by the way, is the exact answer to your other question, about whether it’s okay that you’re interested in me.” He pauses. “And the same answer I’d give if you asked me out on a date.”

Harry beams at him. “Well,” he says, trying to get his words out despite smiling so wide. “We’ll kind of have to go on a date, won’t we, if we’re going to have kids.”

Louis scowls. But only for a second or so, before he’s smiling again. “Yeah, well. You’re lucky. Apparently I have a weakness for beautiful boys in ugly jumpers. But only certain ones. They’d have to be punny, and curly, and have ridiculous dimples.”

“Lucky me,” Harry says, and he doesn’t sound like he’s joking at all this time. Louis feels his heart skip a beat. _No,_ he thinks, _lucky me_.

*

That night, when Harry picks him up for their date, he’s wearing a black jumper, with two candy canes forming a heart on the front. Louis opens the door, revealing his own sweater, that simply reads _kiss me under the mistletoe_. 

(Zayn may or may not make sure that there’s mistletoe on their doorstep when they return. It may or may not snow. It may be the most perfect date Louis has ever been on in his life.

Years later, they may just tell their children how they met.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please leave kudos or a comment, or consider reblogging my moodboard [here](http://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/181165655023/theres-really-nothing). As ever, feel free to come talk to me on my [Tumblr](http://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/)!


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